


The Demon Cat

by Tish



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Illya is a cat, Transmogrification, souffle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 04:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8432059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish
Summary: Illya tries to make a soufflé (again).





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BigStripeyLie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigStripeyLie/gifts).



Illya's last waking thought just before the explosion knocked him out was a note of regret. All he'd wanted to do was surprise Napoleon by breaking into his apartment and making him a soufflé. He slipped into unconsciousness with a soft moan of despair at his failure.

 

Some time later, Napoleon surveyed the damage to his kitchen. The walls were charred and a brass cooking pot had embedded itself in one of the overhead cupboards, but the damage was far less than expected. Scattered flour and chives made an exquisite pattern on the floor, punctuated by a dozen shattered eggs. 

Napoleon carefully picked up the burnt remains of a book and spoke into his communicator. “Seems THRUSH is aiming to take us out by expanding our waistlines. There's a cookbook in the debris. Purple Valley Cookbooks, sounds familiar.”

“They seem to have a very profitable sideline in the food industry,” Mr. Waverly mused. “We should try and kidnap some of their accountants, get them to share their secrets. Has Mr. Kuryakin found anything of note?”

Napoleon looked around, “Actually, I haven't seen him since last night, sir. I tried to contact him when I saw the fire crews at my building, but he didn't answer. I'll try again.”

“Very well, I'll be waiting to hear what you two discover,” Mr. Waverly signed off as Napoleon toyed with the broom.

  


Napoleon reset the communicator. “Open Channel D. Come in, Illya?” 

He turned as a beeping sound came from somewhere in the room, giving the oven timer a frown. "No, that's not how the timer sounds. In fact,” he trailed off and bent down to peer under the fridge.

A communicator was beeping away like mad under there. Napoleon screwed up his face in confusion, looking at his own communicator before figuring it out. “Illya?” He grabbed a long wooden spoon and tapped it out.

“Okay, so Illya was here, got caught in the explosion and his communicator rolled under the fridge. So where's Illya?” Napoleon mused to himself.

Napoleon raced through his apartment, calling out, “Illya! Are you hurt? Where are you?”

A sound from behind him sent him to the bedroom, eyes scanning for any danger. Something shuffled under the bed and he had frantic thoughts of a wounded and disoriented Illya staggering in and hiding under the bed.

Cautiously, Napoleon knelt down, speaking softly, “Illya?”

Something like a soft moan came from under the bed and Napoleon tilted his head to see to the far end, jolting back as a pair of eyes glowed red, and an unearthly howl came from the darkness. He rolled back just as a small, champagne-coloured cat darted out to leap over him.

 

“The hell?” Napoleon yelped as he sprang to his feet to follow the cat. He stopped as he saw the cat settle on the top of a tall bookcase and gaze down at him with beautiful sapphire blue eyes. Napoleon stared as the cat leaned over the side and rubbed its cheek against the wooden shelf, a steady purr filling the room.

Napoleon sat on the edge of a couch, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but is that you, Illya?”

The cat made a chattering sound as it purred, its eyes slowly closing as it curled up. The tail slowly curled and uncurled, swaying from side to side.

“I guess if I've inherited a cat, then I'll have to give you some food,” Napoleon said, pointing to the kitchen,

The cat immediately twitched its ears and leapt down onto Napoleon's shoulder, its purring intensifying.

“That's quite an engine you got running there, Illya. Let's see what we can give you, okay?” Napoleon chuckled as he carefully walked to the kitchen.

The cat nuzzled his head as he opened the fridge door, suddenly yowling again as it saw some chicken legs. It dived inside and started gnawing at the bird.

“Illya!” Napoleon started to grab at the chicken, but his survival instinct kicked in at the cat's growl, the eyes turned red again as it glared at Napoleon.

“Look, please be careful, those bones can splinter and hurt you,” Napoleon tried to keep his voice soothing and quiet as he took a few steps back. “Wonderful, I'm talking to the demonic cat version of my partner. I'm sure Cary Grant will play me in the movie version of this affair,” he muttered as he pondered the absurd turn the day had taken.

 

As the cat neatly finished tearing the flesh from the chicken bones, it daintily jumped down and wrapped itself around Napoleon's legs, purring sweetly once again.

“Looks like you turn into a demon around food. Okay, I can handle that. Trouble is, will you be like this forever?” Napoleon tentatively stroked the cat, running a hand along the slender body, then back to the head to scratch an ear. “You're just as beautiful as a cat, Illya. Let's see what happens, okay?”


End file.
